A Paint Chip
by fuck this bullshitiness
Summary: So Im bad at summeries. The story is essentially a post apocolypitic world thing that i did for English class


p style="margin: 0cm; margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: center;" align="center"strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"uspan style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; font-family: 'Calibri',sans-serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"A Paint Chip/span/u/strong/p  
p style="margin: 0cm; margin-bottom: .0001pt;"span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; font-family: 'Calibri',sans-serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"The world has forgotten colour. Now it's all just brown and black. Broken branches lie unmoving on the ground. No more life inhabits the world after the event. The dirt is dry and cracked, parched for water. Roads are shattered, craving for the familiar rumble of cars driving along. /span/p  
p style="margin: 0cm; margin-bottom: .0001pt;"span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; font-family: 'Calibri',sans-serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;" /span/p  
p style="margin: 0cm; margin-bottom: .0001pt;"span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; font-family: 'Calibri',sans-serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"Shops have collapsed, windows are shattered. An old grocery store has the stench of rotten flood, mould crawls along rotten food and plastic. Metal shelves rusted beyond recognition, collapsing from their holds. Paint chips cover the ground laying still, aching for a long dead wind. A paint chip stirs in a wind, from long ago. /span/p  
p style="margin: 0cm; margin-bottom: .0001pt;"span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; font-family: 'Calibri',sans-serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;" /span/p  
p style="margin: 0cm; margin-bottom: .0001pt;"span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; font-family: 'Calibri',sans-serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"Sliding across the dust covered tiles from an age ago it begins its journey. A soft push of the wind send the chip tumbling, struggling to stand. Over broken glass, dust, dirt, carcasses, broke bits of plastic and long forgotten currency. /span/p  
p style="margin: 0cm; margin-bottom: .0001pt;"span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; font-family: 'Calibri',sans-serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;" /span/p  
p style="margin: 0cm; margin-bottom: .0001pt;"span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; font-family: 'Calibri',sans-serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"Out of its once glorious home it scrambles free. There is a wind out here. One that sends it soaring as if it were a bird, up and over. Escaping its little town it continues gliding on a wind that was rebirthed. /span/p  
p style="margin: 0cm; margin-bottom: .0001pt;"span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; font-family: 'Calibri',sans-serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;" /span/p  
p style="margin: 0cm; margin-bottom: .0001pt;"span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; font-family: 'Calibri',sans-serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"Dirt turns to rocks, granite glimmers in the sun gathering heat. Faulting the chip almost falls as the heat continues, building until it disappears. Stars appear in place of the sun, almost lighting the way, as the sky is clear. /span/p  
p style="margin: 0cm; margin-bottom: .0001pt;"span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; font-family: 'Calibri',sans-serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;" /span/p  
p style="margin: 0cm; margin-bottom: .0001pt;"span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; font-family: 'Calibri',sans-serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"Rocks give way and drops into the depth, the wind dispersing. Falling the chip fails to find a way to lift up. Toppling down into the abyss of dark. Attempting to save it from shattering the wind steps in. Grasping and flailing out the wind misses. /span/p  
p style="margin: 0cm; margin-bottom: .0001pt;"span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; font-family: 'Calibri',sans-serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;" /span/p  
p style="margin: 0cm; margin-bottom: .0001pt;"span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; font-family: 'Calibri',sans-serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"Finally the wind catches the small chip, but it's too late. The chip hits sand, sinking down into the unforgiving sand. In one last attempt the chip flies forward, only to fall again, but this time into its saviour. /span/p  
p style="margin: 0cm; margin-bottom: .0001pt;"span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; font-family: 'Calibri',sans-serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;" /span/p  
p style="margin: 0cm; margin-bottom: .0001pt;"span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; font-family: 'Calibri',sans-serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"One lone box, along with its scoop lies in the forgotten sand. Empty of all it used to be and misses. It craves to be filled, carted and be loved. Scratches and chips lay in the faded surface giving away the bright colour beneath. Shinning but also hiding itself the red missed home. The red missed the water, hydrating its plastic so it doesn't crack. Its once pleasant friend weighing it down so it wasn't blown away by another force, yet nothings weighs it now. As the wind pushes, missing the chip a fight begins in which only one will win. /span/p  
p style="margin: 0cm; margin-bottom: .0001pt;"span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; font-family: 'Calibri',sans-serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;" /span/p  
p style="margin: 0cm; margin-bottom: .0001pt;"span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; font-family: 'Calibri',sans-serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"Sinking into the dry and slippery sand the box disappears, never to see the sun again. But now it is safe, from the wind. It is in this long forgotten and dead world that it will be preserved, saved from cracks and battering of the sun and wind. Now with two friends it may rest, knowing it's safe. The paint chip, the sand and the saviour and rescued red box./span/p 


End file.
